Beau
eleven
I creep to my bedroom door and peer through the crack.
Ollie’s at the kitchen table with a sketch pad and a pack of stubby pencils, drawing another picture of Pony Noir.
I’ve been teaching him about equine anatomy, and spidery lines wriggle across the page attached to labels like “mane” and “withers” and “fetlock.” He’s got most of it right, and what he doesn’t, we’ll revise later.
I ease back into the room, phone to my ear and voice low. “So what do I do?”
Ollie’s psychologist, a woman named Amy Haines, is on the line.
She volunteers at a community clinic in Aster Springs, and it was pure luck that she could fit us in when I called.
Ollie’s had two sessions already, and he’s supposed to see her every other week this summer, except I’ve gone and thrown a spoke in the wheel.
“You’re in a tough spot,” Amy says. “Ollie needs stability, but that doesn’t mean you need to stay at Silver Leaf. You are his source of safety now. Home is often a person, not a place, and kids need to learn to adapt and build resilience. However…”
I run a tired hand down my face. “It’d be better if I could keep my promise and find a way to make this permanent.”
“To put it bluntly? Yes.” She sighs. “If that’s not possible, I can offer strategies to support Ollie’s transition to another living environment. Do you have something organized?”
“No.” My stomach is tight with frustration. “Not yet. But I’m working on it.”
“Is the situation so impossible that you can’t negotiate a way to stay? If there’s any chance you could remain where you are, I suggest pursuing it.”
“Yeah,” I say hopelessly. “I’ll think about it. And… thanks.”
I end the call and stand frozen in the middle of my small bedroom.
I thought this place was my answer to having no money, no education, and no family.
The idea of searching for something just as good or settling for something nowhere near makes me so fucking mad at the world—and myself—for putting us here in the first place.
I allow myself six seconds of self-pity before I leave the room like I’ve got everything under control. Ollie looks up from his sketch pad. I haven’t told him what’s going on, but the kid’s got an instinct for disruption, and my bravado wobbles under his knowing gaze.
“Hey, buddy,” I say. “We’re due back at the stable. Go get your boots on.”
Ollie hops off his chair, eager for an afternoon with the horses, and the innocent smack of his bare feet rushing to the door stokes something fierce and protective inside me.
I don’t want my first big decision as Ollie’s guardian to be the wrong one. He’s come farther in five days at Silver Leaf than he has in the last three weeks, and I won’t jeopardize his healing by being pushed out before he’s ready. I’m not leaving this ranch without a fight.
My thoughts spin all afternoon, but muscle memory keeps me moving around the stable as I weigh up my options.
We need to stay, and if that means crawling belly-down in the dirt to make it happen, I will.
But the more I think about it, the more I wonder if I’m a selfish asshole for using my nephew as an excuse to stay close to Daisy even when she doesn’t want me here.
My dad always said I was good for nothing, and no matter how many times I talk myself out of believing it, life has a funny way of reminding me of all the ways he was right.
When we’ve bedded down the final horse for the day, Ollie hovers at a closed stall door, running his hand over the flat of Pony Noir’s nose.
“I really like him,” he tells me as I double-check the latch on the neighboring stall.
“He’s a beauty,” I agree.
“But he belongs to someone else, doesn’t he?”
“He does.”
“So I shouldn’t get attached?”
“It’s smarter not to,” I say, “but that’s what working in stables is like sometimes.”
He peers up at me. There’s a smudge of dirt on his chin and a rosiness to his cheeks that wasn’t there this time last week. “What do you mean?”
“You meet a new horse,” I explain. “You grow to love him, and you take care of him as best you can. He learns to trust you—even love you back; horses are like that—and then you move on. But there’s always another horse who needs you, and it’s a good feeling to be needed.”
The corners of Ollie’s mouth turn down. “But I don’t want to leave. If Pony Noir loves me, won’t he wonder where I am? He might think I stopped loving him, and I never want him to think that.”
My throat aches and my voice is gruff. “It’s part of life as a stable hand. Some things are permanent and others last only as long as you’ve got the job.”
“What are the permanent things?”
I hesitate. What are the permanent things? What do I have to show for the life I’ve lived these last fourteen years? An old hat. A few trinkets. A woman who can’t stand to look at me.
“The skills,” I say as honestly as I can. “The lessons you learn and keep learning. The memories too. Nothing can take those away.”
Ollie’s shoulders fall. “Is that all?”
“Well, now that I’ve got you and you’ve got me, we’re permanent,” I tell him.
He nods like it’s not what he was hoping for, and I watch him stare with wistful adoration at Pony Noir. The impulse to give the horse his heart is written across Ollie’s face, but so is the fight to stay guarded.
Impulsively, I roll up my shirt to show him my ribcage, which is bare except for the only tattoo I’ve ever gotten. “This is permanent,” I say.
Ollie inhales sharply, then leans in to examine the lines in the falling light.
“Are they flowers?”
“Daisies,” I confirm.
He scrunches his nose. “Why would you get a tattoo of daisies?”
His disgust is exactly what I’d expect from a ten-year-old boy, and I grin because he sounds so normal.
“Because some things have a way of getting under your skin,” I say. “Permanently.”
Someone clears their throat behind me, and I let my shirt fall with a silent curse.
I spin and see Daisy standing in the open doorway.
The setting sun glows around her silhouette, catching the curves of her hips and the golden fall of her hair.
She’s far enough away that she might not have heard me, but close enough that she could have seen my tattoo.
“Day’s done,” she announces. “It’s time for you boys to head out.”
I stuff my shirt into the waistband of my jeans and let Ollie lead the way. Daisy high-fives him as he passes, and he’s already kicking up dust in the yard when Daisy stops me with a hand on my bare forearm.
I freeze at the contact. This is the first time she’s touched me in more than a year, and my eyes fall to her fingers against my skin.
She snatches her hand back as if burned, and I force myself to lift my chin and keep my focus forward.
“I found you a job,” she says.
The storm inside me is swept aside and replaced with a different kind. She found me a job? I look for signs that she thinks this is a good thing, but her arms are crossed and she’s concentrating on the ground underneath her feet.
“What job?” I ask. “Where?”
She stuffs her hands into her back pockets, then pulls them out again and recrosses her arms. “It’s stable hand work at a place called Emberfield up at Kismet Creek. Long term. Family friendly. Nice people. It’s a good fit.”
I nod and look away, trying to process what this means. I never thought I’d be a part of Daisy’s life again, but now that I am, I don’t know how I’m supposed to walk away from her for a second time.
Ollie has found a stick and is drawing a horse in the dirt. Daisy follows my line of sight, and we watch him in silence for a moment.
“If we have to go,” I say, trying to sound unconcerned but coming off cold, “then probably best it’s sooner rather than later. Best for Ollie, that is.”
“About that.” Daisy scuffs at the dirt, then stops herself. “Look. The job isn’t until the fall. It’s up to you, of course, and we can keep looking for something else, but…”
I turn to face her, and she meets my stare with a clenched jaw. “But… what?”
Her eyes flash before she exhales. “But if you want the job in Kismet Creek, you can…” She mumbles under her breath, drawing my attention to her mouth.
I blink away the memory of those lips on mine. “I can… what?”
She huffs and throws up her arms. “You can stay. Keep working here for the summer.”
“You want me to stay?”
She scowls. “Don’t flatter yourself. I want Ollie to be safe, and if you turn down this opportunity, you might not get another offer as good.”
“I take this job, and we get to spend the summer here with you?” I repeat, because the offer and her attitude do not make sense together.
Daisy crosses her arms. “That’s right.”
I glance again at Ollie, who watches us with a furrowed brow until I catch him staring, and he spooks before returning to play in the gravel.
I’ve got no clue if this is the best thing for him.
I know it’s not the best thing for me. I don’t need an entire summer with Daisy to know what I figured out in the sixteen months we spent living in each other’s pockets—that there was never a real place for me in her life and she was the one who didn’t want to admit it.
If anything, a summer might be just long enough for me to unlearn that lesson, and that’s going to hurt.
But it’s not like I’ve got options, and this way, there’s time to prepare Ollie for another change.
“Can you do it?” I ask. “I don’t want to hurt you more than I already have.”
She shakes her head with a short, incredulous laugh. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
Her words cut, no less because they’re true. I remove my hat and run a hand through my hair, looking at Ollie for the strength to accept her offer.
“Your plan’s a good one, so I’ll take you up on it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She turns and strides away from me like it’s the easiest thing in the world.